Muggle Portrait
by venatianwings
Summary: “Hogwarts has never paid host to muggle eyes, Miss Granger”. Initially titled ‘Peep’.oneshot.R


Disclaimer: four leaved clover in my hand,

Trembling, dreading, hoping_ mad_…

Wish me luck,

Im gonna pluck…

I own it…

I own it not…

I own it…

I … _sniff_!

Summary: "_Hogwarts has never paid host to muggle eyes, Miss Granger". _Initially titled 'Peep'

A/n: this story was initially titled _Peep_. Made a few changes and had to republish because I really didn't understand just why only 30 or so people had read it the last time it was put up. Apparently very few people got to _peep_ at it!

_Muggle Portrait_

By

_Venatianwings_

"Portrait of a_ muggle_ dear?" the old wizard asked politely, his grey tinted brows drawing together in skeptic scrutiny, so that his eyes were almost entirely covered by them.

They were standing in a dingy little shop, hidden away deep within one of the many little passageways that branched off from the main street of diagon alley. The room smelt strongly of paint and varnish. Its darkened walls were careworn and along them leaned numerous pieces of canvas, ancient looking frames, and unfinished paintings.

Hermione Granger gazed back at the elderly wizard, undaunted. "Well, yes. Actually _two_ muggles… if you noticed."

The man looked curiously to the objects of their discussion.

Mr. and Mrs. Granger were examining, with evident wonder, a picture in the far corner...that of a young witch and wizard, waltzing slowly on a moonlit terrace.

Presently, he turned back to the young girl who stood before him.

"Are you quite sure?" he enquired.

"They're my parents," she answered simply.

"Ah…I see" he smiled.

He looked at the couple once more and in return to their greeting smiles, nodded just the slightest bit. "Tis quite curious. Curious indeed!…but, young miss, I think you ought to know - I haven't done many _muggle _portraits…at least, not in the last fifty years or so…"

"I take it then, that you agree to my request?" she ventured eagerly, her voice brimming over with hope.

The old man regarded her warily.

"Please sir" she said after a pause, adding softly "it would mean so much to me if you would..."

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"Why, George! Isn't that the most marvelous thing you ever saw!" laughed Mrs. Granger, when they had unwrapped it at home, a few days later.

Hermione watched her parents admire the portrait, smiling, despite herself, at their naïve wonder.

"You'll have to put your signature on it dad, and you too mom." She interrupted "Only then will the portrait be truly _you_…in form and in spirit…"

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Minerva McGonagall looked a long moment at the young witch seated across from her.

"Im afraid I cannot do that Miss Granger." She spoke at last.

"As assistant headmistress of this institution, I daresay I have the authority to supervise its decoration. But unless you can give me a very good reason, I do not think it wise to oblige you."

"Forgive me professor, if I'm wrong, but I don't see how it can be unwise." Hermione sought to endeavor.

"Hogwarts has_ never_ paid host to muggle eyes, Miss Granger. This castle - a home to many and a refuge to countless other souls, is in itself, no longer safe- as we have undoubtedly seen."

"But professor, putting up a muggle's portrait on the castle wall does not breach any school rule- _not one_. Besides, I am perfectly aware of the existence of a legal contract between every muggle born student's guardian and the school, pledging secrecy to the magical community. So I doubt this could pose any threat to safety…"

McGonagall leaned back in her chair and idly flicked her wand, drawing the curtains to and lighting half a dozen lamps around the room. "I only wish to impress on you, Miss Granger, the_ implications_ of this issue." She said at length.

The young girl was silent.

"Tell me Hermione, what do your parents_ know_ about Hogwarts?"

Hermione contemplated the question. And for once in her life, she was surprised to find that she really did not have an answer.

So she remained quiet and watched an unvoiced tear drop desolately into her lap.

It wasn't fair, she thought, trying valiantly to push down the emotion threatening to rear its head. For over the years, Hermione had fought tooth and nail with fate and time to keep her parents in her world…in her life. She had painted before their eyes, the magical world and all that it encompassed in rich, radiant muggle colors, taking prudent care not to stress on the greys. But, as much as she had tried, most of her world remained to them, an untold fairy tale…

"I can't say, professor", she finally managed to speak, steadying her voice with some effort "my parents are _muggles_."

But when she looked up, she found the professors chair empty.

A firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder answered her concern. "Do you _honestly_ wish, Hermione," spoke McGonagall softly, "for them to see the danger they have so unknowingly placed their daughter in? And then be tormented continually knowing they did not have a choice in building their child's destiny in the first place?"

Hermione shook her head slowly to indicate no.

The elderly witch stooped a little to look into her eyes.

"_We need you Hermione_. You know that."

She nodded, raising starry eyes to meet her teacher's. "But professor," she whispered, "I think, just maybe because of _that_…I need this…"

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An hour later, Hermione Granger was standing alongside professor McGonagall in one of the second floor corridors, gravely examining a patch of the stone wall.

"I don't mean to be rude Miss Granger, but I wouldn't want to place it in a very obvious spot…" the professor stated. "It would be a bit…_ difficult_ …to explain the _significance_ of the painting to a curious mind, don't you think?"

Hermione replied in the affirmative and added, "Um, professor, the other portraits… surely, they _will_ be accommodating?"

"But of course! I'm sure your parents will find the Hogwarts portraits very agreeable. Though I think it might be wise if you could warn them about _ weatherwoe _on the third floor and _Charles the belligerent…_I forget where he is presently, but I suppose Filch can help you there…"

Hermione tenderly took the tiny portrait from her robe pocket, and placed it on the wall.

"Been carrying it around, have you my dear?"

"Well, yes…er-Professor," she said, as if only remembering just then, "I wanted to say… I_ am_ very grateful to you. Thank you. Even though its _only_ for a few days…You do not know how much I appreciate this…"

"Ah, but maybe I do," the old transfiguration teacher replied mysteriously.

McGonagall_ almost_ smiled down at her before briskly turning away. "But I must say that this idea of yours" she vaguely indicated the portrait "is infact, quite ingenious! Can't help wonder why _I_ dint think of it…but perhaps I never really had the chance to …my parents weren't muggles, you see."

"Now then, shall we meet your parents miss granger?" and with a swift flick of her wand, said "_engorgio!_"

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"'mione!" wailed Ron Weasley, panting, as he and Harry ran to catch up with their friend, "why can't you just tell us what its all about?"

"You'll see" she called back over her shoulder and continued to run.

They screeched to a halt at the end of a corridor on the second floor. Hermione was standing in front of a picture the boys had never noticed there before…

"Hello Harry…Ron," said a smiling Mrs. Granger. Mr. Granger pretended to touch his hat.

"What do you think?" asked Hermione breathlessly.

Harry grinned back at her.

"_Brilliant_!" said Ron, looking at the girl, and not for the first time, in complete _awe_.

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The cheeky blond youth pulled the young girl to the corner and fervently tried to kiss her, arresting her protesting hands…

"Urgh…" cried the apparently disgruntled young witch "get away from me you dirty, _vile_…"

_Poof!_

The corridor suddenly filled with smoke.

A loud '_Slap' _echoed in the stillness of the aftermath, soon joined by the sound of fast retreating footfalls…

The smoke cleared in a matter of seconds, leaving in its wake…the boy, looking sullenly down the corridor, a hand raised to his rapidly reddening cheek.

A boisterous guffaw startled the youth who quickly drew his wand…

"Next time you'd want to kiss her, my boy," said the oddly dressed man in the portrait before him "_try brushing your teeth again_!"

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Author's notes – the theory might be a bit controversial, but at least I thought it stood apart. I wanted to do something other than the usual Ron – Hermione romance fics I love writing (and reading!)…so tell me what you think? Review please?


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